As they ran past the cabins, the
stay-at-homes came out and asked: "What's wrong? Has there been an
accident?"
"No, indeed! But the whole parish is up on the fire-swept mountain
planting a forest."
"If the whole parish is there, we can't stay at home!"
So party after party of peasants went crowding to the top of the burnt
mountain. They stood a moment and looked on. The temptation to join the
workers was irresistible.
"It's a pleasure to sow one's own acres in the spring, and to think of
the grain that will spring up from the earth, but this work is even more
alluring," they thought.
Not only slender blades would come from that sowing, but mighty trees
with tall trunks and sturdy branches. It meant giving birth not merely
to a summer's grain, but to many years' growths. It meant the awakening
hum of insects, the song of the thrush, the play of grouse and all kinds
of life on the desolate mountain. Moreover, it was like raising a
memorial for coming generations. They could have left a bare, treeless
height as a heritage. Instead they were to leave a glorious forest.
Coming generations would know their forefathers had been a good and wise
folk and they would remember them with reverence and gratitude.
A DAY IN HAeLSINGLAND
A LARGE GREEN LEAF
_Thursday, June sixteenth_.
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